When I was a kid, I thought I would be a famous pop star and long flights would be part of this job, but after eleven hours in the air to Mexico, I feel my childhood dreams have been shattered. It is a dreary experience. The BA staff certainly did all they could to make us feel delightful. It was our honeymoon so they gave us a card from all the flight crew and looked after us. It was really rather lovely. They also served a multitude of vegetable curries on the way. One staff member bemoaned this saying “They don’t appreciate curries in Latin America!” but I was entirely happy with this, along with the billion little wines I drank.
The flight was deeply confusing. It was blazing, glorious daylight outside as we flew back in endless daylight. But the windows had all been tinted into darkness, presumably so we would all sleep and not press the bell (I could never press the bell, never ever). But at the back, it was light eternal. I know from past experience that I cannot sleep if it’s light but we have to pretend it’s dark. My brain knew it was daytime, a topsy-turvy world I couldn’t accept. We landed at 745pm Mexico time, at dusk, showing that order had been restored.
After passport control, I unsteadily walked to baggage reclaim as word spread that some people have been text that bags hadn’t made it. Not being in possession of this text, I assumed all was well but no bag came. Eventually we gave up the ghost and got a taxi to our hotel. Instead of having a mad night in Mexico City, we had a mad night claiming for our lost baggage on a reluctant website and then looking forward to a long sleep.
A very sleepless night later, we got up at 6am and decided to walk around Juarez, near Roma, where we were staying. This is a part of the city that includes the nightlife district of Zona Rosa and it is a fantastic place to stay. It is an urban jungle where vines, electricity cables and plants seem to compete with each other for space. People were sweeping the streets with brushes and some were doing it with twigs. Even before 7am, there are sounds of construction workers drilling at stuff and my mind told me this wasn’t right. But building regulations differ from country to country. I noticed that people everywhere were cooking food on street stalls and I kept being delighted by tiny limes I saw ready to be squeezed over food. The air smelled of citrus, coriander, corn and tomatoes. It is a glorious hit of scent, with an underlying whiff of petrol. In that moment, Mexico City became the best smelling city I had ever been to. Some cities have a defining smell; Amman in Jordan was petrol, spices and flowers. Barcelona was drains. For our first meal we went to Cuina for breakfast but arrived far too early, drooling at the menu and forced to continue walking about, trying to avoid getting caught up by all the vines.
Ignoring our rumbling stomachs and returning to Cuina was the best idea, as the food was impeccable. There was a queue outside the door at 9am, and it being a nice morning, we thought we might eat outside. A silly idea as the inside is impressive with a full-grown tree in there. I had a chilaquiles negro and chocolate croissant, which were both excellent. When the bill came, we realised eating this decadently would not be compatible with our budgets. Worth it though.
When we saw the historic core of Mexico City, I became instantly obsessed by a pastel pink building with a satellite tower on top, the Edificio Miguel E. Abed. It’s a gorgeous art deco skyscraper and was once the tallest building in Mexico. Other buildings I lusted after were an office building that had a screen in front of it of fractured metallic shapes and the Latin American tower, which has withstood some major earthquakes, the most notable being the 8.1 magnitude earthquake in 1985. After this we took the metro, which I was told was pickpocket central but our experience was non-dramatic. We even got on the metro for free when a man beeped us in on his travel card, after he witnessed me try and fail to buy a ticket. I’m not sure why he beeped us in but what a gent. The metro was entirely fine, but a little confusing. Mexico City has a host of public transport options and they are identifiable by various symbols and I didn’t really have a clue what any of it meant. I wanted three columns and a curve, but we ended up on three columns with a B. So, the metro somehow became a bus in a dedicated fast lane. The symbols soon become obvious but for a first timer, it’s like a magical new language and it’s what travel should be all about.
We crossed the city to the Museum of Anthropology which is in a building that brings me much joy. It’s a brutalist building set in a courtyard. The courtyard has a concrete “umbrella” with a fountain and it’s a stunning entrance for the important artefacts inside. In the museum are displays that give you an overview of how the pre-Columbian era became the Mexico we know today. Most of the text is in Spanish so I made some of my own history up but you get the picture. There were many figures of humans covered in blood and one woman is shown to be somehow shitting out a baby, which really was the least of her troubles. Everyone else was fighting, gathering sticks, hitting each other with sticks and eating animals or each other. At some point they started to think about gods, so lots of people had to be sacrificed. Some of the rooms show you what the sacrificial chambers would have looked like. Snakes then follow in the artwork and the gods become more hungry and demanding. Life seemed astonishingly hard and I came away with the impression that despite everything, humans have an unshakeable desire to simply exist. In the most morbid way, there was something uplifting about it.
In the evening we ate at La Casa de Tono, which wins the award for the speediest service ever and absolutely OK food. It was remarkably good value. Afterwards, the plan was to go to a bookshop that includes Bukowski’s bar for a drink but a tone deaf singer was hitting all the bum notes possible, so we went to a bar underneath Bukowski’s that overlooks an entrance to a car park. We listened to the singing. He gave a go at some John Lennon. It was terrible. He gave a go at Elton John’s Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, which was beyond parody. It was clearly time to go to a gay bar that was empty. And just as I felt that I needed a boost of joy, two men hit it off over drinks and all was well with the world.
On the second day, there were a few things I saw in Mexico City that I just thought made me feel like I was far away from London. One was market stalls where you could buy individual cigarettes; somewhere hanging up in the stall on a string was a lighter. And second was groups of people unfurling banners at road crossings. I initially thought people were protesting about something, but I soon realised that these were just adverts being thrust in the faces of drivers. There were some protests, but they did their thing and the police kept an eye on it, without any hint of rancour.
We had breakfast at a place called Niddo, which has three branches in a 2-minute walk from one each. Usually, I would say this is over-saturation, but Niddo was instantly my favourite place in the world. A woman came over with a heaving tray of pastries and cakes and offered them in such a way that I thought this was a freebie. This was not the case but they were tasty and that’s all that matters. The variety of food at Niddo was the thing that worked for me – I wanted it all but I would recommend the bacon and eggs as well as the shakshuka. We went back another two times over the course of the trip.
Our first culture stop of the day was the Frida Kahlo museum, and unlike many museums, I didn’t get museum fatigue as Kahlo led a dizzyingly full life, despite dying at just 47, and the museum ended prematurely as well. I could have stayed much longer. Her home and collection was beautiful and so much of her work asks questions of the viewer, with much relating back to ideas of illness and equality. It’s fascinating and very popular and I had to book tickets weeks in advance. The fact that Kahlo has become such a commercialised icon tells us that capitalism has had the last laugh. Lovely gift shop, though. Skulls everywhere.
Kahlo lived in the Coyoacán area of Mexico City and I couldn’t help but marvel at the colours of the place. Things just looked naturally photoshopped – the bright blue sky set against the earth tones of the buildings and the flags flapping in the wind. We followed flags to an inviting looking alley that turned into a cafe where a 175ml glass of wine arrived that seemed to be much more, so much more. I ate a cheese and chorizo wrap that oozed oil and didn’t regret it, because sometimes unhealthy tastes so good. When we visited Coyoacán market we loved to see all the items on display, ranging from the tiny mini limes to skulls to skeletons to skeleton skulls and Frida Kahlo toys. We swerved the meat aisle as that would have tipped me over the edge. This was the point when I became a big fan of Mexico City; it’s such a huge place but there’s a human side to it where you don’t feel overwhelmed by the size. It is a walkable city in many places.
